[He tries to think of it only clinically, but the kneejerk reaction is barely suppressed, and obvious under Rokurou's weighty embrace: a flinch of shoulders, a spike of spiritually energy, only kept from being the sort of blast that once sent him skidding across a shower floor by the grace of slow and reluctant familiarity.]
[It feels nice. That's what his strangely buzzing brain informs him, before he quashes it like a bug under his proverbial thumb. Shut the fuck up, Clubs.]
Not this, [He answers dryly, but somehow allows the contact to continue. His head bows forward subconsciously; it bares the nape of his neck under his kimono collar, his ponytail slid down the side of his shoulder.] What are you doing here?
no subject
[He tries to think of it only clinically, but the kneejerk reaction is barely suppressed, and obvious under Rokurou's weighty embrace: a flinch of shoulders, a spike of spiritually energy, only kept from being the sort of blast that once sent him skidding across a shower floor by the grace of slow and reluctant familiarity.]
[It feels nice. That's what his strangely buzzing brain informs him, before he quashes it like a bug under his proverbial thumb. Shut the fuck up, Clubs.]
Not this, [He answers dryly, but somehow allows the contact to continue. His head bows forward subconsciously; it bares the nape of his neck under his kimono collar, his ponytail slid down the side of his shoulder.] What are you doing here?